Hannah and Papa J

Sunday, March 12, 2017

Dreaming of right-wing women

Dear Hannah,

I don't believe (whatever Paul and Schopenhauer said) that women in general are stupid, but I don't believe the rumor's existence is entirely the fault of our men. The women seem to have brought it on themselves. If all our men were to start calling our women ugly nobody would believe it, mostly because women are one of the only things we stare at so desperately that some of us end up driving into ditches. But even if men tried spreading the lie, the truth of an assertion lies in its probability. Too many women are beautiful for us to call them ugly. We might even say the concept of beauty revolves around women*. But are too many women intelligent for us to say they aren't stupid?
In woman's defense the problem lies more in the fact that some women are speaking for women than that all women are speaking for women. The same has gone for every other group since the beginning of history. A part has to represent the whole or there's going to be chaos. The problem with womankind's representation is that femininity isn't a representative organization (or even an organization) at all; and the women who speak for women are never elected by womankind to do it. We might even go as far as saying they have a problem of suffrage. The feminist of the modern age is much less an envoy than a usurper. She speaks for the totality of her sex when she represents easily far less than half**.

My case in point.

When Donald Trump became the president nearly two months ago it was said that "women" went mad over it; and when they went mad they "all" took to the streets. Every paper went wild for our women's resistance. Coverage was extensive. Women in tasteless pink hats plagued our streets on both coasts; nobody was sure exactly what they wanted except that Donald Trump had to go and paid leave ought to be mandatory. They'd won the right to vote and now that they'd won the right to vote they were uncomfortable with the conclusion of their voting. Nearly half of American women had voted for Trump. The worse half simply didn't believe in the existence of the better.

Atop this absurdity came others. In the spirit of charity we'll perhaps skip over The New York Times running a headline in praise of them that said "We are dissidents; we are legion." We'll ignore the fact that Legion was the name of a horde of demons in the Bible, and that Jesus had sent them into a herd of pigs, and the herd of pigs stampeded in a fury, and the fury led them off of a cliff. We'll ignore that this was applied to a rabble of angry directionless pig-colored feminists; and that they loved it because they were religiously illiterate. If we were meaner we might not allow them to slide. This is the most-read book in the world; and these chapters at the end are the most read of them all. But we happen to be saintly, so we forgive and forget without anyone asking.

We'll ignore that a Wall Street firm decided to build them a statue, and the statue was of a little girl, and the little girl was placed in front of the Wall Street bull, and that they intended for her to be taking a stand against the patriarchy of finance. We'll ignore that The Bull doesn't represent Wall Street itself, and that it actually represents "a bull market," and that a bull market represents prosperity, and that a little girl standing up to a bull market is a girl childishly standing in the way of our advancement. We'll ignore that they loved it anyway. We'll ignore that falling below the reading of the New Testament she falls below the symbolism of the tribesman; and that she fails as hard in the written world of the Romans as she does in the pictures of the ancient Egyptians.

Yes, we'll ignore all of this and get right to how she fails at her own senses. We'll ignore that liberal women don't know that if pregnancy is a massive disruption to a marriage it's also a massive disruption to our businesses and worse to our military, and that they believe women are just as good in combat and sporting and drinking as men. We'll ignore the claims of activist leaders in the New York Times, that what women want is not that more women become CEO's, but that nobody in the world be a CEO -- that nobody should be driven to the top by greater incentives, and all progress should exist in a world without leaders. We'll ignore women who nobody would have sex with demanding we keep our hands off their vaginas; and that we would keep our politics out of their vaginas while they're putting their vaginas into our politics. We'll ignore the consoling embraces given to people who are not raped, and the cold shoulder given to children who are actually dissected.

Out of a spirit of charity we'll ignore all of this. And when all is said and done, the feminists will stomp their feet and shout irrational things in the streets and refuse to help husbands and bosses and friends (this was, after all, the point of A Day without a Woman). But International Women's Day will not be remembered by many as a day about women. It won't even be remembered by most as A Day Without a Woman. It will be remembered as the day millions of American men woke up and realized how happy they were to have married Republicans.

Your father,
-J

*All the romantic poetry in the world is an attempt to describe women using things that are immeasurably beneath them. Solomon's describing his lover's teeth as a flock of sheep is almost laughable; and his calling her breasts "fawns" borders on the grotesque. What in the world are we supposed to compare women to? What could possibly be a compliment when they're the crowning feature of the universe?

**I've read several books by this point that insisted suffragettes were never the majority of women. They were never very many. They were simply obnoxious and motivated and organized and violent -- like the Bolsheviks and the Snowflakes and the Nazis. My sister once asked me how a population could ever consent to anything as terrible as a Middle-Eastern dictatorship. But how could the Arabs stand up to Saddam's tortures when we couldn't even stand up to a few women's tantrums? We ought to cut the Iraqis some slack.

The history of women in protest hasn't been flattering to their humanity or their intelligence. The earliest and perhaps most novel invention of theirs was probably invented by a man named Aristophanes, who depicted a city of women refusing sexual intercourse in the hopes of getting their wishes -- a noble purpose, in this case, of avoiding an unnecessary war. Unfortunately this was all foiled when an inventive Greek, probably Archimedes, ruined all their greatest hopes by announcing the discovery of right hands.

From the moment it arrived feminism has been crippling the foundations of Western Civilization. Edwardian England was a place for oratory and sharp but tolerable exchanges between members of Parliament, until women began "asking" for the vote by pelting men like Winston Churchill and his feminist wife, who were not even against the female vote, with things like rotten fish. You may read about it in the first book of The Last Lion. Their intolerable bigotry, their shouting over speakers incessantly, and their constant interruptions of every function sacred and important set the stage for the modern Social Justice Warrior; whose youngest and most dedicated effetes win their arguments by making arguing impossible.

1 comment:

"All the romantic poetry in the world is an attempt to describe women using things that are immeasurably beneath them."

Sure enough.

"Solomon's describing his lover's teeth as a flock of sheep is almost laughable;"

Why?

Consider this -- many years ago, me car died on the highway (fortunately, not too far from my city). On the ride home in the tow-truck, I was struck with how beautiful the fields of wheat and young corn we passed were as compared to the wood-lots. I mean, I do love trees very much (and my quite urban property is mostly wooded), but a world of nothing but forest would be hideous. The woods are beautiful *because* of the contrasting fields and meadows.

So, my point is, a healthy grain field is beautiful. And a healthy flock of sheep on a grassy hill is beautiful (especially if one's culture is pastorial). So, given that "[a]ll the romantic poetry in the world is an attempt to describe women using things that are immeasurably beneath them", how is it "almost laughable" for a man descended from shepherds to describe his lover's teeth as a flock of sheep?

"and his calling her breasts "fawns" borders on the grotesque."

Again, why? Does it border on the grotesque to liken a woman's grace to that of a great cat?